


Always By My Side

by Enochianess



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Demisexual Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Nerd Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Travel, Virgin bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enochianess/pseuds/Enochianess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes is graduating in a week and has no plans of where to go or what to do. Then, cue Steve Rogers—a Brooklyn-born student from England, studying abroad in California. The two of them meet at a party and then embark on a journey across the U.S. Learning about themselves and each other, it is a trip they'll remember for a lifetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. California

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be added as the story progresses.
> 
> If you're reading this story, you're basically following my own journey across the U.S. Some of these events have happened to me during my trip, others are entirely fictional. I also happen to be doing it alone. Unfortunately, Bucky Barnes has not appeared in my life.

Bucky weaves his way through the crowd, his cup held precariously in the air. It’s busy in the frat house and almost unbearably hot. All the windows and doors have been closed shut because a skunk sprayed outside about an hour ago; the dog is still out in the yard, pacing up and down as he waits to be let inside again. There is no fresh air and no breeze. There are red cups everywhere, filled to the brim with what is probably very alcoholic jungle juice. Other than those who made it, the rest of the room drink with zero idea as to what they’re actually drinking. Bucky thinks it’s stupid, but then again, he’s noticed that most people usually are. That’s not to say they aren’t clever. Anyone who attends a University of California campus has to be reasonably intelligent. But people just don’t think when it comes to drinking and partying. Bucky knows that the Santa Barbara campus is the “party school”, but he still finds himself endlessly annoyed by the drunk people staggering around the neighbourhood of Isla Vista and throwing up outside his apartment.

He’s at the party—a social arranged by the Acacia Fraternity and Delta Zeta Sorority—because Natasha, who is a member of the sorority, wants to hang out. And, by that, she means her boyfriend has gone home for the weekend and she needs someone to walk her home. And, of course, she wants Bucky to get out of his apartment and meet some girls. Bucky, to no surprise, really doesn’t want to be here. He hates the fraternity brothers and everything they stand for, hates how many people are jam packed into one tiny space, hates that he’s expected to speak with people he doesn’t know. Most of all, he hates that Natasha expects him to flirt, to mingle with the girls at the party. They’re very pretty, but he’s just… not… interested. He’s told Nat a thousand times, but she still hasn’t gotten the memo. He knows he’s never going to find anyone he’s interested in at a party. He wants to meet someone who is likeminded, someone that is going to be interested in him for longer than just one drunken conversation. Perhaps he’ll meet someone in a museum or in a library. Perhaps it’ll be really cliché and he’ll meet them in a coffee shop.

Bucky’s standing in the corner alone now, just watching, observing. He’d gritted his teeth through the icebreaker—everyone had to get into groups and, once given a word, had to sing a song that included the word in its lyrics. Bucky has a terrible voice, so he spent the entirety of the game hiding in the back and mouthing the words silently. He had felt a little like crying, forced in a group of strangers while Natasha messed around with another group on the other side of the room. He’s better now though, now that the games are over and he can hide away at the edge of the room. His eyes traverse the crowd until they settle upon Natasha, who he pointedly gives the stink-eye to once she turns around to meet his gaze. It’s childish, he knows, but he’d really like to be anywhere but here. It’s her fault that he’s not sat in his room studying for his finals—which are _next week_ by the way—or procrastinating by reading his new book, _American Psycho._

There’s a couple grinding right in front of him, close enough that they’re brushing against him, and Bucky arches his spine to get away from the touch. He can smell the sweat coming from them, might even catch a whiff of pheromones in the air. He clears his throat loudly and they both turn to look at him apologetically, backing away and disappearing back into the crowd.

“You too, huh?”

Bucky nearly spits out his drink. He wasn’t expecting anyone to speak to him. He’s a nobody; people usually leave him to himself at these events. He turns around at the voice and his mouth drops open. The guy is gorgeous: muscular, long limbs, and the brightest blue eyes. Bucky has never felt more inadequate or out of place. He opens his mouth and stupidly says, “Wha—“

The guy laughs. It’s not unfriendly. It’s surprisingly genuine. “You don’t like parties either?”

“No. Not really.”

“So how come you’re here then? Someone drag you too?”

It’s clear to Bucky that the guy doesn’t live here, which means he’s not in the fraternity. That gives him at least some comfort.

“Yeah. My friend, Nat.” He says. He nods in her direction, smiling fondly at his friend.

“Ah. I’m with Sam Wilson. You know him?”

“Nah. I don’t really go out much.”

It’s silent for a moment and Bucky stands awkwardly, his foot tapping to the song playing. It’s that stupid Rihanna song that he hates, but can never get out of his head once he’s heard it. _Work work work work work._ It all started when his roommate Clint—Natasha’s boyfriend—showed him a video of a micro-pig dancing to the song. He doesn’t argue against Clint’s insistence that the pig is a twerking genius. Although, Bucky’s pretty sure it is just scratching his belly.

“I’m Steve, by the way.” The guy says, knocking their shoulders together in a way that seems a little bit too friendly to Bucky. He’s a big fan of personal space, and that is especially true when it comes to strangers, like Steve.

“Bucky.” He replies.

“That’s an interesting name.”

Bucky refrains from rolling his eyes. If he had a cent for every time someone had said that to him…

“It’s a nickname. My middle name is Buchanan, so… Bucky. But if you prefer, you can call me James. That works too.”

“I like Bucky.” Steve says softly, his smile gentle as he watches Bucky closely. It’s weirdly intimate and a little disconcerting; Bucky’s not sure he likes it. “So, I’m guessing you’re not a frat boy… Are you in any societies?”

“No. I don’t really like going out or… mixing with people too much.” Bucky admits.

“Huh. So that’s why you’re in the corner by yourself. Would you rather I leave you alone?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I like being with people, but just not in large groups. They make me nervous. It’s intimidating.”

“You wanna get outta here then?”

Bucky looks up at Steve sharply. “I don’t—“

“Not what you think. I just meant, do you wanna go sit down somewhere else? Preferably somewhere that we can hear ourselves think.”

“I can’t. My friend will kill me if I leave her here.”

“Okay. Well, do you wanna go sit outside on the porch?” Steve says. “I’m pretty sure the smell has gone by now.”

"Sure.”

Bucky tries not to recoil when Steve grabs his hand and pulls him through the crowd. All he can think is, _are my hands sweaty? They’re sweaty, aren’t they? He’s gonna be disgusted and walk off._ He swallows thickly and counts down from ten. He’s _fine._

“So, what year are you?”

“Senior.” Bucky sighs.

Steve laughs. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“No plans for after graduation.” Bucky says as way of explanation. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m studying abroad at the moment. I’m in my second year back home, and because we only have three years it kind of works out that I’m a Junior here. It’s kinda confusing.”

“Where are you from? You don’t have much of an accent.”

“England. But I lived in Brooklyn until I was fifteen. I’ve got some weird kinda hybrid accent now.”

“No way. I’m from Brooklyn too.”

“Yeah?”

“Born and raised.”

“Huh. That’s pretty cool.” Steve remarks.

“I ain’t ever met anyone out here from the East Coast before. I miss it, y’know? Easier to be alone out there.”

Steve nods slowly. “Yeah, I miss it too. London’s great and I love it, but home’s home.”

“So what are you doing with your summer?”

Bucky’s proud of himself for how well he’s making conversation. He’s actually pretty good at it when it’s one-to-one. It’s just when he’s in a group that he starts floundering and tripping up on his own words. This though… this is something he can do.

“I’m travelling actually. I have a month left before I’m needed at home, so I thought I’d make the most of it.”

“Oh, cool. Where are you going?”

“Denver, Chicago, Niagara Falls, Boston, and then ten days in New York. I’ll probably go to Brooklyn for a few days, see how much the place has changed.”

“Wow.” Bucky says. “That sounds awesome.”

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it. What about you?”

“Find work somewhere, I guess. No idea where though. I don’t want to have to go home and live with my parents again, but I don’t have a lotta choice with the prices of the apartments out here.”

“You should just come with me. Have some fun before you start working.” Steve jokes.

“I wish I could.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve always wanted to travel. I ain’t seen nothin’ of the U.S. really.”

“Why don’t you then? It’d be fun. Just the two of us stepping out into the world and all that.”

“I wasn’t being serious. Steve, we just met, like half an hour ago.”

“So what? Haven’t you ever wanted to do something spontaneous like this? Don’t you think it’d be fun?”

“I’m not exactly a spontaneous kinda guy. I’m the guy who sits at home every night thinking of what I’ve got to do the next day and then makes lists. I colour code them and everything.”

Steve snorts. “Well, now’s your chance then.”

“Steve… I’d have so much to do. I’d have to book the flights and hotels and transfers. Do you have any idea how stressful that’s going to be, to do it all last minute?”

“I can help you.”

“This is ridiculous.” Bucky mutters to himself. “This will be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done if I say yes.”

“It could be the best decision of your life though.”

Bucky groans. Steve’s right. This is exactly the kind of thing he’s always telling himself he should do. Now the opportunity has arisen and… he’d be stupid, wouldn’t he? If he turns this down. He has the money. He’s worked hard all year to save up for… something. He’ll have to go back after if he does it, but he’s gonna end up doing that anyway. Hell, he might even get a new friend out of it. Maybe a good one.

“Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.” Steve whispers in his ear, a wide smile on his face. It’s triumphant, like he already knows what Bucky is going to say.

“Alright! Fine. Let’s do it. I’m gonna go travelling with a total stranger.”

“That’s the spirit!”

* * *

"This is never going to fit!" Bucky says, falling onto his ass as he throws his clothes childishly at his suitcase.

Clint sits on his bed on the opposite side of the room and cackles at him. "That's what she said."

Bucky glares at him. "Not helpful, Barton."

"Sorry. I couldn't help it." Clint says, his hand held over his heart. "You need help, man? It'll... all fit. You just... gotta... sit on it."

Bucky blanks him out; it's the best thing to do when it comes to Clint. "It'd be fine if I didn't have to take every damn thing that I own."

"Aren't you supposed to just take a backpack or whatever when you're travelling?"

"Yes. But I'm going home after, so I've got to take all my stuff with me everywhere."

"Dude, that's gonna be annoying as fuck."

Bucky looks up and scowls. "Yes, Clint. I'm aware."

"I think it's gonna be good for you." Natasha calls from where she's watching television in the living room. "You gotta get out more, James."

"There is nothing wrong with staying home and working hard, Natasha!"

"I didn't say that." Natasha says, appearing in the doorway in a tight fitting tank top and a pair of Clint's boxer shorts. "But you've gotta find a balance."

"Look, can we just... drop this? Please?" Bucky begs. He's tired and frightened and he really doesn't want to have to deal with this right now.

"Okay, honey." Natasha soothes, walking forward and wrapping him in a hug. "I just worry about you. That's all."

"I know." Bucky murmurs into her shoulder.

"My baby's going off into the big bad world, all alone except for Steve Rogers."

Bucky huffs and steps back. "Stranger danger."

"Nah. Steve's a sweetheart. I've met him loads of times."

"Yeah well, I haven't."

"Just let yourself get to know him. He's not scary at all, I promise."

"I'm not  _scared_ of him, Natasha. I just don't like strangers."

"Sometimes you just gotta take the leap. If you don't get to know strangers then you'll never meet anyone new."

"Don't tell that to the kids."

Natasha rolls her eyes and looks at Bucky fondly. "Just go and have fun. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck, I'm gonna miss you." She sighs.

"Yeah. Me too, Nat. Me too."

* * *

Bucky is freaking out. He has no idea what he's doing. It's 10am and he's just arrived at LAX by bus, and he's regretting pretty much every decision he's made in his entire life. So many things could go wrong. He doesn't even know Steve Rogers for Christ's sake.

"Bucky!"

He turns around and there is Steve Rogers, in all his prince charming glory. He's dressed in a pair of clinging grey sweatpants and a dark red UCSB sweatshirt. His hair is sleep mussed and he looks tired, but still unbelievably good. Bucky sighs and looks down at himself. He feels small in his overly-large light blue sweater, his dark jeans falling down a little because he's lost weight over the last quarter; it isn't his fault that stress has made him forget to eat. He knows his hair is messy, and not in a good way. He can't really find it in himself to care though. Not when he had to get up at the ass crack of dawn this morning.

"Hey, Steve." Bucky says once they're in touching distance.

"Are you excited?"

"Nervous."

"Me too."

"So many things could go wrong. This is so stupid."

"Yep, but it's all part of the adventure, pal."

"I can already tell your optimism is going to be annoying as hell."

"You're grouchy in the mornings." Steve fires back.

Bucky grunts. "Get used to it. We've got a whole month together, remember?"

"Come on. Lets go get some coffee in you. I'm pretty sure there's a Starbucks in most gates." 

"Mm." Bucky moans. "Coffee."

Steve smirks beside him and claps a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "We've gotta get rid of our bags and get through security first. Won't take too long though, Buck. Promise."

Bucky doesn't know why Steve's talking to him like this, as if he's got no idea what he's doing, but he appreciates it. He thinks maybe Steve knows how scared he really is, that maybe he's talking him through everything in little baby steps because he knows it'll calm him down. 

"Fine." Bucky whines exaggeratedly, trying his best to hide his smile as they start heading over to the check-in.

"You know, I thought I had a lot of stuff, but your bag is practically bulging. Do you think it'll weigh too much?"

"I hope not. It's mostly books, to be honest."

"Are you a bookworm then?"

"Kinda, I guess. A lot of them are school books. They were damn expensive; I'm not throwing them all away."

Steve nods. "What major are you?"

"Engineering."

Steve's eyes widen and he smiles, impressed. "That's great, man."

"What about you?"

"Art. Although, I've taken a lot of literature classes out here. We were mostly allowed to pick whatever classes we wanted."

"Dude, I _hated_ literature classes. They were the worst out of all my GE's."

"But you love reading?"

"Yeah, but they give you poetry and Shakespeare. I like science-fiction and dystopian novels. You want me to analyse _them,_ then give me a pen and paper. But give me something I don't give a shit about reading and I'll draw a blank."

"How about writing? Do you like that?"

"Oh, yeah! I took this creative writing class in my second year. Best... class... ever. I wrote all these short stories about aliens and sea monsters. Total kid stuff, but I still got an A."

Steve laughs. "Sounds cool. I wish I'd taken it then."

"Yeah, you should have."

* * *

Bucky's leg is bouncing up and down, his hands clenched into fists and his eyes squeezed shut. 

"Buck, you okay?" Steve asks, his hand moving to rest over Bucky's own.

"Mm-hm." He murmurs. "Just don't like flying is all."

Bucky's breaths are starting to back up on him and he's appreciative when Steve starts whispering in his ear. "It's gonna be fine, I promise. Just count back down from ten for me, Buck. That's it, nice and easy. You don't have to open your eyes, just listen to me, okay?"

"Yeah." Bucky croaks.

The plane begins to shake as it speeds up, the front wheels beginning to lift off the ground. Bucky whimpers and his head lolls against the headrest. 

"You're not going to be sick are you?"

"No. Just... I just need—"

Steve pulls at Bucky's fingers until they uncurl and threads them with his own. "Squeeze as hard as you want, Buck."

Bucky nods and fights the tears forming behind his eyelids. 

_Yeah. He just needs that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't watched the pig video, check it out [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=taOw0intSWk)


	2. Denver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky begin their travels in Denver and start to get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a short mention of the Orlando shootings, so be warned.

**Day 1**

—

Steve and Bucky are lost in the airport and Bucky thinks that if it weren’t for Steve being with him, he might just start crying. He’s never been very good with not knowing what he’s doing, has always liked to be prepared. He gets stressed so easily and he can’t count how many times he’s made himself ill with it.

“Don’t worry, Buck.” Steve says, strangely in tune with Bucky’s emotions already. “We just gotta ask someone where to go. It can’t be too far. I read about it on the website.”

“What’s it even called?”

“RTD. It’s like a metro; it’ll take us into the centre of the city.”

“Are you alright there, boys?”

Steve and Bucky both look up at the approaching security guard, and Bucky lets out a heavy sigh of relief. “No. We’re lost.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “We’re looking for the RTD. Whereabouts can we find it?”

“You want to go downstairs, walk right to the end and out the door, and then you’ll find a pair of escalators. Go down there and that’s where the trains come in. The ticket machines are on your right and tickets cost nine dollars.”

“Thank you, sir.” Steve says, shaking the man’s hand.

Bucky stands behind them, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. His head is pounding something awful and he thinks if he doesn’t get some water to drink, he might faint soon.

“Come on, Buck. Not long now.”

Thankfully, there is a small convenience store on the ground floor of the airport, and Steve takes Bucky inside to buy some Advil and a bottle of water. Steve takes Bucky’s backpack from him and hands over the tablets. Bucky smiles up gratefully at him and starts chugging the water.

“Hey, hey! Slow down, pal. You’ll throw up if you’re not careful.”

“I just— was just feeling bad.”

“God, this isn’t a good start to the holiday. Does this happen often when you fly?”

“No. It’s okay, Steve. It’s not that bad. Just a little dehydrated and tired is all.”

Steve nods. “You think you’re okay to go get the train now? I want us to get to the hostel before it’s dark and I don’t know how long this is going to take.”

“Sure. Lead the way.”

“You sure? You don’t need another minute?”

“I’m fine, Steve. Promise.” Bucky says, pulling the handle of his suitcase and beginning to drag it behind him as he starts the trek towards the escalators. He hates how big airports are; his bag is too heavy to walk that kind of distance. Steve, of course, is holding up fine, but Bucky’s bicep is screaming. _I need to work out more,_ he thinks distantly. _Or at all,_ his brain offers. He just isn’t that kind of guy. He likes sitting in bed with his books or with his laptop, cozying up to watch _Game of Thrones_ or _The I.T. Crowd._ He’s tried working out, but it’d been painful and tiring and he just didn’t like it. Walking for exercise is good enough, he figures. He's thin anyway—perhaps a bit wiry, but he doesn’t care about that. Its not like he needs the muscle. He has nothing to prove.

 

About an hour and a half later, they finally arrive at the hostel on 11th Street.

“Oh, _fuck._ Steve. Steve, ask if they have an elevator. For the love of _God.”_ Bucky says, tugging on Steve’s sleeve.

“I’m sure they do.”

Bucky laughs, a little maniacally but he chooses not to dwell on that embarrassing bit of information. He decided a long time ago not to think too much on the things he doesn’t like about himself, his anxious laughter being one of those things.

“Excuse me.” Steve says to the woman at the front desk. “Do you happen to have an elevator here?”

“No. I’m sorry. We don’t. It’s an old building. It’s going to be one-hundred and forty years-old this August…”

Bucky face palms and glares at the stairs as if they’ve done something personally to affront him.

“Steve, we’ve gotta go up _three flights_ with _these_ bags. You might have muscle, but I sit at home all day doing homework or reading books.”

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll help you.”

Bucky huffs. “No. I’ll fucking do it. My arms will just hurt for the next week or so. No big deal.”

“God, you’re so dramatic. If I’d known that about you I never would’ve brought you along.” Steve jokes.

“All part of the charm actually.” Bucky wheezes as he lifts his bag and begins his ascent up the stairs. He's dragging it more than carrying it really, but he refuses to acknowledge that when Steve is slowly and effortlessly taking the stairs two at a time behind him. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on Bucky’s lack of strength, just waits patiently as Bucky struggles upward.

“I’m right behind you, Buck.” Steve says encouragingly.

“Ready to catch me when I fall?”

“Always.”

It’s said weirdly sincerely and Bucky still doesn’t know what to make of such kindness from a man he’s only just met. He doesn’t know what to do with it. He supposes he’s lucky to have met him, to be doing this with such a person, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t make him at least a little bit uncomfortable.

“We’re room 331. To the right and down the corridor.”

“I can read, Steve.” Bucky says, looking at the sign on the wall in front of them.

“Just checking.”

The room is… not bad. Just— well, it’s old fashioned and has no air conditioning, which would be fine ordinarily, except there’s a fucking heat wave and Bucky thinks at some point over the next four days he might just die in here. As they enter, to the right of them is a small alcove with an old couch and a small television set—a pathetic attempt at a living space. They walk into the sleeping area to the left where there are two bunk beds, each with pink and blue comforters folded at the end of the mattresses. They’re pretty small and Bucky looks at the slight grimace on Steve’s face. The guy is at least six-foot and it’s going to be a tight squeeze for him.

“This is okay.” Steve says optimistically.

Bucky nods. “I’m bed number four.”

“I’m number three. I think I’m on top of you, Buck.”

 _Fuck yes you are,_ Bucky hears Clint’s voice say in the back of his mind. He curses himself inwardly and sighs out loud. He thinks he hates Clint just as much as he loves him. His virtue and innocence has gone straight out the window, chased away by filth and smut, unlikely to ever return.

“Hey, guys. I’m Sebastian.” A voice says behind them. They turn around and shake hands with a man who is dressed in all black, with green highlights in the front section of his messily styled hair.

“Uh, I’m Steve, and this is Bucky.” Steve says, his eyes wide despite his obvious attempt to look normal.

“Cool. I’ll be over here watching TV if either of you want to join me. It’s one of the _Fast and Furious_ movies. So you know, the option’s open.”

“Thanks.” They both say at the same time. “It was nice to meet you.”

The guy beams. “You too. You too.”

“I, uh— I’m gonna check out the bathroom.” Bucky says once Sebastian has thrown himself onto the sofa. “I gotta go pee.”

“Uh huh.”

“That was weird.” Bucky whispers.

“I’m sure he’s nice enough.”

“Still weird.”

 

 _“Steve.”_ Bucky hisses. “They’re looking at us funny.”

It’s getting late and they’re in McDonald’s after walking five blocks looking for something to eat. They’re waiting in line and Bucky’s eyes are glancing around the restaurant nervously.

“Who is?”

“That group of kids.” He says, trying his best not to point.

Steve looks over his shoulder and then back to Bucky, an odd expression on his face. “No they’re not.”

“They _are.”_

“Buck, they’re probably staring at _you_ because you’re staring at _them_. Stop being weird.”

“Don’t call me weird.” Bucky mutters. He grumbles unhappily to himself and turns around at the feeling of someone brushing against his arm. It’s an old man with crooked yellow teeth and tattoos that cover both his arms and head.

“Hello, darling.” The man says.

Bucky’s eyes bulge out of his head and he takes a step back until he’s nudging into Steve. He smiles at the man politely, but inside he’s screaming.

“You meet all sorts of weird people around here.” The man says with a smirk.

“Next please!” The woman behind the counter shouts.

Bucky practically runs over to her, Steve trailing coolly behind.

“How can I help you?”

“Large fries,” Bucky says. “And… Steve, what do you want?”

“A Big-Mac please.”

“Coming right up.” She tells them.

Bucky’s eyes keep sliding back over to the man, making sure he’s still on the other side of the room and not paying for his own meal. He grabs their bags quickly the second their orders are called out and drags Steve outside.

“Where are we going? What’s the rush?”

“It was too hot in there. I want to walk and eat. It’s getting dark anyway. Don’t wanna be out in a city we don’t know in the dark, huh? Could be dangerous.”

“Scaredy cat.” Steve whispers, a small, kind smile on his face. “Seriously though? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You’ve just seemed kind of… off all day.”

“I’m just tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I’m shit on no sleep.”

“Yeah, I didn’t sleep much either. Nerves, yknow?”

“You’re really scared too? I mean, nervous?”

“Yeah. Of course I am, Buck. I haven’t ever done anything like this before neither. It’s frightening, especially when I’ve organized everything. Like, what if I booked a flight at the wrong time or haven’t given myself enough time to get there? What if the taxi driver I paid for never shows up? It’s all new to me.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a pretty good job. You coulda fooled me about the nervous thing. You seem cool as a fucking cucumber.”

Steve laughs. “I’m good at being one person on the outside and another on the inside. Trust me.”

Bucky frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’. It’s nothin’.”

 

Bucky lays on the thin mattress with his eyes closed, his jaw beginning to go slack as the exhaustion starts to pull him under. But then he hears… _No it can’t be,_ he thinks. But yes, it’s unmistakable. Bucky would know that sound anywhere. Someone in the room is jerking off. He can hear the sound of skin against skin, and the labored breathing that cannot quite be contained.

 **That better not be you** , he picks up his phone and sends to Steve.

He gets a reply immediately denying it, and Bucky believes him because it sounds pretty fucking challenging to text and rub one out at the same time.

The noises get quicker and quicker, more and more hurried, until finally it stops, a soft grunt permeating the air. Bucky slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter that is bubbling up inside his throat and he rolls to face the wall.

 **A bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?** Steve texts.

 **What, and you can do better?** Bucky replies.

**Shut up.**

**No. You shut up.**

**I’m going to sleep.**

**Shut up.**

* * *

**Day 2**

—

They wake up early the following morning and are quick to shower and go outside.

“Wait! Hold up, Buck. I wanna take a picture of this.” Steve calls out.

Bucky turns around and walks back to Steve. He looks up at the tall building with the turquoise and gold dome and squints. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, but it looks nice, right?”

Bucky shrugs. “I guess.” He’s just sitting down when some guy practically jumps out of the bush beside him. Bucky startles and looks up at him in disdain.

“Sometimes you just gotta walk barefoot in the park, y’know?” The guy says.

Bucky nods, stunned, and the guy smiles before walking away.

 _The people here are fucking crazy,_ he thinks. _How the fuck is Steve not noticing this?_

“Um, Steve?”

“Mm? What is it, Buck?”

“Coffee.” He prompts. He tries to sound polite, but honestly his head is beginning to pound and there is a little voice in the back of his head chanting, _coffee coffee coffee,_ over and over again. He’s used to waking up with Clint shoving a mug of the stuff in his face, so waiting this long for his morning dose is kind of killing him. Although, he has to admit that he does like seeing the happy look on Steve’s face as he alters the zoom on his camera and takes pictures of the building, which turns out to be the State Capitol of Colorado. He turns suddenly and aims the camera and Bucky fails to duck before Steve has pressed down on the shutter.

“Gotcha.” Steve says, a triumphant smile on his face.

“I hate you.”

“You look kinda cute when you scowl.” He says, taking another picture much to Bucky’s chagrin. “You’re like a little kitten.”

 _“Kitten?”_ Bucky stammers.

“Yeah. Y’know when their hair stands up and they start hissing at you.”

“I do not look like that.”

“Yes you do. But I know—you’re grouchy. Bucky… must… have… coffee. Right?” Steve says, imitating a caveman, much to his own amusement.

“Ha. Ha.”

“Come on, pal. I’m only joking. Lets go get you your caffeine.”

“Thank… fucking… God.”

 

“I can’t believe last night.” Steve mutters as they walk into the Starbucks on 17th Street. The line is long and they join the back of it with a sigh. “D’you think it was Sebastian?”

“I dunno. You never heard a guy jerking off before though?”

“Not in the _same room_ as me.”

“Well, you’re lucky then. The number of times I heard Clint…” Bucky shudders.

“Did you ever say anything?”

“Yeah, of course. He started to do it quiet then, but I could still hear him.”

“Man, that sucks.”

Bucky shrugs. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, I guess.”

“But you don’t…” Steve says a little awkwardly.

“God no. Exhibitionism really isn’t my forte.”

“Good because I like hanging out with you, but I’m not down for that for the next month.”

“No worries. And I guess we’ll just have to— I dunno, stick it out another couple of nights here. Unless the bastard leaves before we do. We can just put our earphones in. I sleep with music playing all the time anyway.”

“Really? What do you listen to?”

“Sleeping at Last is always nice. It’s real calming, soft, y’know?”

“I’ve never listened to them.”

“It’s a he actually. He does everything. Plays all the instruments. Sings. Composes. Writes the lyrics. The whole lot.”

“Huh. That’s awesome.”

“Yeah. You should really check him out. I think Uneven Odds is my favourite song of his, but I always listen to Saturn when I’m sleeping.”

“I’ve never really tried sleeping to music. Just always listened to the sounds outside. The apartment I lived in in London last year was right beside the railroad tracks, so I used to listen to the trains going past.”

"Didn't that keep you awake?"

"At first, but then I just got used to it."

Steve and Bucky step forward to make their orders—a soy latte for Steve and a black americano for Bucky—and then find a seat on the sofas in the corner. 

"Do you mind if I call my mom real quick?" Steve asks.

"No, go ahead."

Steve nods and takes out his phone. Bucky looks out the window and begins to drift off into his own head, barely hearing when Steve starts to talk. His parents don't know where he is, don't know that he's travelling, and with a complete stranger at that. He hasn't heard from them in at least a month—it's an approximation because he doesn't really remember anymore. He wonders what it must be like to have the kind of relationship where you call your parents to let them know you're safe, or just because you want to talk. He can see by the look on Steve's face that he obviously loves his mother very much. Bucky felt that way once, when he was younger and didn't know any better. Now though... now he just feels numb towards them, void of feeling. 

"No ma, he's not a serial killer." Steve says with a roll of his eyes.

Bucky laughs quietly.

 

“Right, lets play twenty questions.” Steve says.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, we’re gonna be together for the next four weeks and I don’t know anything about you. So, tell me.”

“What do you want to know? I’m not exactly very interesting.”

“That’s what everyone always says.”

Bucky laughs. “That’s because it’s usually true.”

“You’re charming.”

“I know.”

“Urm… What’s your favourite colour?”

“Really Rogers? _Jesus._ Blue. What about you?”

“Red. Although blue is a close second.” Steve answers. “What’s your favourite song?”

“Currently?” Steve nods in reply. “The Kids Aren’t Alright by Fall Out Boy. Although you gotta listen to Glass Heart Hymn by Paper Route. It's easily my second favourite."

“Your favourite food?”

“New York pizza. None of that Chicago shit.”

“So, no pizza when we’re in Chicago then?”

“Oh, I’ll eat it. I’m just saying, I will absolutely not be enjoying it while I’m eating it.” He says with a wink.

Steve laughs. “Favourite book?”

“The Alexandria Quartet. It’s not sci-fi or dystopian, but it’s just written so poetically, y’know? Like, it really inspired me, made me want to write and gave me all these great philosophical ideas. There’s this one bit where he starts writing about the prisms of human personality and it’s just— it’s just awesome. Really made me think, y’know?”

“That sounds great, Buck.”

Bucky nods enthusiastically. “You gotta read it, man. It’s nine-hundred something pages but it’s totally worth the effort.”

“I’ll add it to my list.”

“List?”

“Yeah. I have this list where I write down all the books I wanna read, movies I wanna watch, places to go, etc. Basically it's a bucket list.”

“Where do you wanna go most? If you could pick anywhere in the world?” Bucky asks.

“Somewhere in Asia. Maybe Thailand or China. I don’t really know.”

“I’d like to go to Thailand. Lay on the beach. Just chill out.”

“Mm. Exactly.” Steve agrees. “Favourite alcoholic beverage?”

“Whiskey. Straight.”

“Ah, so you’re an old man.”

“Shut up. I bet you’re no better. Or you like some girly fruity thing.”

“I don’t really drink.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah. My— uh… my dad was an alcoholic, so…” Steve says with a shrug, a sad smile on his face.

“Shit, man. I’m sorry.” Bucky says quickly.

“It’s okay. Really. I brought it up. He left a long time ago now and good riddance to him.”

“Parents. _Sucks_.”

“Nah. My ma’s great. I’m really lucky to have her.”

Bucky looks down and chuckles sadly to himself.  _If only,_ he can't help but think. 

"Hey, Buck. You okay, pal?" Steve says, reaching over and placing a hand on Bucky's knee.

"Yeah. Just— It's just nothin'."

"Doesn't seem like nothin', but I ain't gonna make you talk about something you don't wanna. Just know I'm here if you do need to talk about it. I've got no one to tell and you'll be rid of me in four weeks."

Bucky nods. "Thanks. Maybe some other time."

Steve squeezes his knee. "Whenever you want."

 

"So, there's this cool thrift shop about thirty minutes  _thataway_  if you guys wanna go check it out with me later this afternoon?" Sebastian says when Bucky and Steve walk back into the room at the hostel.

"Um— sure." Steve says.

Bucky glares daggers into the back of his head.

"Awesome! Well, how's three o'clock? That good for you guys?"

"Yeah. We can do that." Steve answers for both of them.

"Right. I'm gonna go finish watching this episode and then we'll take off."

Steve nods until Sebastian walks back into the living area and then drops his head so his chin is tucked against his chest.

"What the hell was that?" Bucky hisses at him, sitting down on the bottom bunk and pulling Steve down with him.

"I couldn't say  _no."_

"That's exactly what you should've said. Now we're stuck going fucking shopping with the guy who may or may not have been beating off in the room with us last night."

"I'm sorry. I'm just not good with saying no to people. I don't wanna be rude."

"Damnit, Rogers."

"You never know. It might be okay."

 

It is not okay. It is very not okay. About halfway there the heavens open and the rain comes flooding down over their heads in what feels like sheets.

"Lets go back." Bucky yells over the thunder tearing through the sky.

"Nah, we're almost there!" Sebastian says, a bright smile on his face.

Bucky wants to stab him. 

"Come on, Buck. We came all this way."

Bucky wants to stab him too. But lightly. And somewhere that won't ruin his pretty face and pretty everything else because that would be a tragedy. Maybe his hand or his foot. Damnit.

"I'm going back." Bucky says decisively.

"No, come on. Buck, _please._  Don't leave me."

Damnit again. Stupid Steve Rogers and his stupid face.

"Fine. But if I catch a cold it's your fault and you're going to nurse me back to health."

Steve nods. "Promise."

 

The Goodwill store isn't that big and is mostly full of girls' clothes, but Bucky still manages to find a few shirts that fit him. He spends most of the time messing around, throwing scarves and hats on Steve. He even manages to find a feather boa, which he promptly throws at Steve and then bursts out laughing when it makes him sneeze. He looks cute when he sneezes, his eyes squeezing shut and his nose wrinkling. Bucky gulps.  _Don't go there,_ he yells at himself.  _Friend, friend, friend._

"Hey, Buck. What do you think of these sunglasses?" Steve calls out.

Bucky turns to look at him and folds forward with laughter. Steve is wearing green, star-shaped shades and is giving the most pouty face he can manage. He looks like such an idiot and Bucky loves it. "You look beautiful, Stevie."

"I'm thinking about buying them. You never know when you might need sunglasses."

"Oh please do. Please, please buy them."

"Damn, they're only a dollar. Consider them bought."

"Oh my God, this is brilliant."

_Who knew Steve Rogers was such a dork?_

* * *

** Day 3 **

—

“Fuck me, it’s hot.” Bucky says when they get outside the next morning. “What are we doing today?”

“Not a lot. Just the botanic gardens. There’s not really a lot to do in Denver to be honest.”

“I ain’t ever been to a botanic gardens before. Are they nice?”

“Honestly, I’ve never been before either. I saw it on tripadvisor and thought it might be worth going to.”

“Huh. How far away is it?”

“About a forty minute walk.”

“Forty minutes?” Bucky says incredulously. “You do realize it’s as hot as Satan’s ass, right?”

“Can’t take the heat, Buck?” Steve teases.

“You’re kind of an asshole. Did you know that?”

Steve laughs happily.

 

They don’t make it to the botanic gardens. By the time they get to Cheesemen Park, they’re both ‘dying’, as Bucky puts it.

“God, I’m so sweaty. My back is wet, Stevie.”

“Me too.” Steve says as he drops his bag onto the grass and flops to the floor. His face is flushed and strands of hair are stuck to his forehead. He reaches behind himself and yanks his shirt over his head. The way his body arches, the rippling and tensing of his abs… Bucky’s jaw almost hits the floor, but he catches it just in time. Steve is fucking _ripped._ Bucky knew the guy was muscular, but this is on a whole other level. Bucky has the uncontrollable urge to touch him, to trace those abs with his tongue. He feels the blood rising to his cheeks and looks away. It’s been a long time since he’s been attracted to anyone. So, to feel the stirrings of want in the pit of his stomach makes him uncomfortable and embarrassed. Especially because it’s Steve. He’s not even sure whether he likes men. Of course, Bucky would never confront him if— if feelings came into play. He really hopes they don’t though because otherwise these four weeks are going to be hell.

“This was such a bad idea.” Steve says.

“It’s this fucking heat. We can’t do a damn thing.”

“At least the view is nice.”

It’s true. It’s fucking beautiful. The grass is green and healthy. There are flowers artfully planted around fountains and across the landscape. The mountains sit in the distance, their peaks covered in blankets of snow. And to top if all off, there is Steve Rogers. Bucky thinks he might be able to lay here forever.

“What’re you thinking?” Steve asks.

“When I was younger I used to go to the park all the time. I’d lay there for hours in the quiet, just thinking, looking for shapes in the clouds.” Bucky says quietly.

“Sounds nice.”

“It was always so loud at home. I have three sisters, so it was always kinda hectic. My parents argued a lot too. I couldn’t stand it. It got more bearable once I was older, but when I was little it used to scare the living hell out of me.”

“My dad used to yell a lot too. I think it’s normal to be scared, Buck. I know I was.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t see them very much anymore, or speak to them.”

“Do you want to?”

“No. I mean, not really. You’re lucky you have such a good relationship with your mom. I wish I had that.”

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Nah. Don’t bother. I’m okay. I accepted I ain’t ever gonna have that a long time ago. It’s just hard, knowing I’ve gotta go back to living with them. It’s gonna make me fucking miserable. I think that’s part of the reason why I decided to come with you. It prolongs the time I have before I’ve gotta go home.”

“Well, if it helps, I’m really glad you chose to come with me.”

Bucky looks down shyly and smiles. “Me too.”

 

When they get back to 11th Street they go into the convenience store on the corner to buy some water and chips for the evening.

“Steve.” Bucky whispers, tugging on his sleeve.

“What?”

“The guy behind the counter. He’s totally checking you out.”

Steve looks over Bucky’s shoulder and begins to blush. It's one of the cutest things Bucky has ever seen, the way Steve ducks his head in embarrassment and scratches the back of his neck. He looks back at Bucky and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m sure he’s just bored. Gotta have something to look at, right?”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah. ‘Cos I bet he looks like that at every lost soul that comes into this lovely establishment.”

“Who knows, maybe he’s looking at you.”

“Nah. People don’t look at me like that. He’s definitely looking at you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Buck. I’m sure plenty of people look at you like that. Maybe you just don’t notice.” Steve whispers.

Bucky doesn’t know how to reply to that. He’s not sure exactly what Steve means, or if he means anything by it at all. But, still— _m_ _aybe_. He wonders if, as they get to know each other and a real connection blooms, that this means Steve would be interested. He doesn't know whether that's what he wants or not, doesn't know if this sprouting attraction he feels will go anywhere or just lay dormant until it eventually teeters out. He likes Steve—he really does—but relationships have always terrified him and he's never been very good at them. He's never really _had_ one actually. Just the insinuation of Steve liking him in that way frightens him. There's too much pressure. He needs to know the guy first— _really_ know him. And even then it's more than likely that he'll run from any blossoming feelings. He hopes, if it comes down to it, Steve will understand. He doesn't want to lose another friend.

 

That evening, Steve and Bucky sit opposite each other at the table by the window. The hostel is especially stuffy tonight and the slightly cooler breeze is nice against their damp skin.

"Tell me about England." Bucky says, bored now of reading his book.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Where's your favourite place in London?"

"Covent Garden." Steve answers immediately. "If you ever come, you've gotta go there. It's this cute little market place with cobbled streets and lots of tiny shops. It gets real busy in the summer because they have all these street performers and all the tourists go there. It's where my local coffeeshop is actually. I go there during my breaks from lectures."

"What university do you go to?"

"King's College London."

"I think I've heard of that."

"Yeah, it's a pretty good school."

"Makes sense why you go there then. You seem real smart, Stevie."

Steve looks out the window, but Bucky doesn't miss the shy smile that lights up his face. "Thanks."

"Do people really say cheerio, or is that all complete bullshit?" He jokes next.

Steve laughs. "Total lie."

"Damnit. There goes my image of the British. And to think, I held them in such high esteem."

"They're actually not so different from us. Other than their complete obsession of tea that is."

"Have you seen the Queen?"

Steve laughs again. "Nope."

"Disappointing, Rogers. Disappointing."

"You should come visit some time. Y'know, next year maybe. If you want to." Steve suddenly says.

Bucky sobers up a little bit and gives Steve a small smile. "You'd want me to?"

"Sure, Buck. It'd be fun. I could show you around."

"But, don't you have other friends you'd rather go visit you?"

"I mean, I wouldn't mind some of them coming, but you're my friend now too Buck. I'd like to see you too."

He doesn't know why, but Bucky feels tears forming in the back of his eyes. It's not that he doesn't have friends—he has Clint and Natasha—but people just don't usually give him the time of day. To know that Steve likes him enough to even suggest this... well, it makes him feel real special. 

"I'd like that." He says quietly.

Steve kicks him under the table lightly and smiles at him. "Me too."

* * *

** Day 4 **

—

After their—now routine—trip to Starbucks, Steve and Bucky go to the 16th Street Mall. They'd initially intended to walk to the zoo, but it's three miles away and there's just no way they're going to make it. There's not a lot to do because they don't really want to shop, but it's still nice to stretch their legs. It's their last day in Denver and they want to make the most of it, but it's even hotter than the previous days and it's a little unbearable. They come across five statues of dancers dressed in the gay pride flags and stand there sadly, just thinking about the events of Orlando and how horrible the whole thing was. It especially hurts for Bucky because he's been interested in men in the past. He can't help but think,  _that could've been me._

They walk through to Civic Centre Park and find an empty spot. It's cool beneath the tree, the 93 degrees heat no longer bearing down on them. The two of them drop their backpacks and fall to the floor, laying back and looking up at the way the light dances between the leaves.

"That's better." Steve says, his eyes closing.

"I thought I was gonna die there for a minute. Need a long ass drink of water."

"Mm." 

"We're gonna be here for a while right? I can read my book?"

"Sure, pal. I don't exactly want to go back to the room just yet. It's fucking stifling in there."

"It's not too bad if you sit at the table by the window. You get a pretty nice breeze, even if it is still a little warm."

"You wanna watch Parks and Rec later? I've got season one and two with me." Steve says.

"Really? Hell yeah I do. I love that one episode... I don't know when it is, but you know with the Snake Juice and they all get crazy drunk?"

Steve laughs. "Yeah, that's one of my favourites too."

"The best thing is— you know Chris Pratt? Well that bit where April slaps him in the face— the guy gets a total boner in the bloopers. It's fucking hilarious."

"Seriously? On camera?"

"Yep. I mean, you can't see anything or nothin', but he looks so fucking embarrassed."

"I would be. I mean, wouldn't you?"

"Fuck yeah." 

"What book are you reading?" Steve asks as Bucky pulls it out of his bag.

"American Psycho."

"Is it good?"

"Yeah."

"What's it about?"

"A psychopath that lives in New York City. It's about the mediocrity and monotony of life. Y'know, the lack of meaning, the lack of feeling."

"Sounds deep."

"It is. The writer—Bret Easton Ellis—was at a really low point in his life when he wrote it. Fed up with life and all that. It really translates well to me."

"Are you fed up with life then?"

Bucky shrugs. "Sometimes. But then, I think almost everyone is at some point."

Steve nods contemplatively. "I'll let you get back to your book."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Just put my earphones in and lay here I think. I'm tired."

Bucky puts his own earphones in and nods his head as The Messageby Rhino Hi-Five: Grandmaster Flash starts playing. It's a guilty pleasure of his and he struggles not to dance as soon as he hears it. He usually waits until Clint has gone to Nat's before he blasts it in the apartment and dances around maniacally. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he's actually quite a good dancer when he wants to be. He grew up with three sisters and was forced into dance lessons. He doesn't go out to any nightclubs, so that little piece of information is safe from all his friends. Bucky knows that if they'd ever found out, he would've never heard the end of it. Plus, Nat would have been dragging him out every damn weekend and that was the last thing he'd wanted. He sighs sadly at the thought of his friends. It won't be long and they'll be living on opposite sides of the country again. He knows they're planning to move to New York eventually, but it's going to feel like an eternity. He's lost touch with all his friends from high school, so he's going to be all alone. No friends, and a family that doesn't give two shits. But, at least for the moment he has Steve. And he thinks maybe that's enough for now. Maybe he can be happy with just this, because this is actually pretty great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not too much happens in this chapter, but that's because I really didn't get up to much when I was in Denver. Chicago was busier, so there will be more content in the next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://enochianess.tumblr.com) and [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCASBQ68lbb2CWPhhZuRmC_A)
> 
> If you liked it, please leave kudos or comments!


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